(writing exercise. sort of.)
Dec. 12th, 2010 12:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zephyrofgodIt is a cold, harsh, raw night. The wind, in fearful blasts, shakes the little crackerbox of a house, leaving a stark, frozen feeling behind. The kind of night that single people dread, because it reminds one of how lonely they really are. On nights like tonight, there is no bacchanalian barhopping in an attempt for some last-ditch efforts for socialisation, but instead the darkness of winter in a nearly empty house. In some cases, a darkness of the soul.
Yet, within this winter darkness is a light. A light to enlighten the nations, coming from a primitive Judean food trough, with a teenage unwed mother and woolly, disheveled shepherds. In the calignosity of night, the bright squall of a child has shattered the screaming of the fearsome wind and the desolate landscape, bringing the hope of light to today.
To that cold, lonely crackerbox of a house, to that one person...and yet, to us all.
----
Writer's note: I'm looking for constructive criticism before I submit this to my mom, who might actually submit this to her writer's group newsletter. Any help would be appreciated.
Yet, within this winter darkness is a light. A light to enlighten the nations, coming from a primitive Judean food trough, with a teenage unwed mother and woolly, disheveled shepherds. In the calignosity of night, the bright squall of a child has shattered the screaming of the fearsome wind and the desolate landscape, bringing the hope of light to today.
To that cold, lonely crackerbox of a house, to that one person...and yet, to us all.
----
Writer's note: I'm looking for constructive criticism before I submit this to my mom, who might actually submit this to her writer's group newsletter. Any help would be appreciated.
